When deep persuading oratory fails. By this Leander, being near the land, Cast down his weary feet and felt the sand. Breathless albeit he were he rested not Till to the solitary tower he got, And knocked and called. At which celestial noise The longing heart of Hero much more joys Than nymphs and shepherds when the timbrel rings, Or crooked dolphin when the sailor sings. She stayed not for her robes but straight arose And, drunk with gladness, to the door she goes, Where seeing a naked man, she screeched for fear (Such sights as this to tender maids are rare) And ran into the dark herself to hide. (Rich jewels in the dark are soonest spied). Unto her was he led, or rather drawn By those white limbs which sparkled through the lawn. The nearer that he came, the more she fled, And, seeking refuge, slipped into her bed. Whereon Leander sitting thus began, Through numbing cold, all feeble, faint, and wan. “If not for love, yet, love, for pity sake, Me in thy bed and maiden bosom take. At least vouchsafe these arms some little room, Who, hoping to embrace thee, cheerly swum. This head was beat with many a churlish billow, And therefore let it rest upon thy pillow.” Herewith affrighted, Hero shrunk away, And in her lukewarm place Leander lay, Whose lively heat, like fire from heaven fet, Would animate gross clay and higher set The drooping thoughts of base declining souls Than dreary Mars carousing nectar bowls. His hands he cast upon her like a snare. She, overcome with shame and sallow fear, Like chaste Diana when Actaeon spied her, Being suddenly betrayed, dived down to hide her. And, as her silver body downward went, With both her hands she made the bed a tent, And in her own mind thought herself secure, O’ercast with dim and darksome coverture. And now she lets him whisper in her ear, Flatter, entreat, promise, protest and swear; Yet ever, as he greedily assayed To touch those dainties, she the harpy played, And every limb did, as a soldier stout, Defend the fort, and keep the foeman out. For though the rising ivory mount he scaled, Which is with azure circling lines empaled, Much like a globe (a globe may I term this, By which love sails to regions full of bliss) Yet there with Sisyphus he toiled in vain, Till gentle parley did the truce obtain. Wherein Leander on her quivering breast Breathless spoke something, and sighed out the rest; Which so prevailed, as he with small ado Enclosed her in his arms and kissed her too. And every kiss to her was as a charm, And to Leander as a fresh alarm, So that the truce was broke and she, alas, (Poor silly maiden) at his mercy was. Love is not full of pity (as men say) But deaf and cruel where he means to prey. Even as a bird, which in our hands we wring, Forth plungeth and oft flutters with her wing, She trembling strove. This strife of hers (like that Which made the world) another world begat Of unknown joy. Treason was in her thought, And cunningly to yield herself she sought.